The Violent Shivers Down Your Spine
by I'veGotAnotherConfessionToMake
Summary: And then he grabbed me from behind, his gloved hands covering my mouth and cap falling to the ground and he drags me into this alley next to my apartment building, and what’s weird is that I can’t even scream out for help, I'm in so much shock.


**WARNING:**

**If rape offends you, please do not continue! I hope that everyone will be able to read this, but I understand the circumstances should one of you not be able to.**

_**The Violent Shivers Down Your Spine**_

Disclaimer: Not mine!

In all of my days of me being, well, me, I'd never given much thought to myself being courageous. To be honest, I never really truly had to be and had never really been all that honest, but that's beside the point. We all have sorry-assed lives where we supposedly find Mr. Right- or Mrs. Perfect and everything is Just Fine and Dandy, until you realize just how fucked up everything you're currently doing is. Take me for example. I'm sitting here, in the main offices of a publishing business reading all the sob stories of people who have died and knowing that I should probably be more scared about my own life, but thinking, Why bother? If all we do is worry, than what's the point of living?

But lo and behold, who should enter my life at this moment but none other than the very one person who has made me question the exact morals of just about EVERYONE and makes me think that perhaps the world isn't just one big field of roses? Well, no shit. But who had the heart to tell little-ol'-me? No one, that's who. So I've lived with this preconception that the world really has a silver lining of good when all there really is are sick people with varying stages of a sick mind. Think about it; we all have our faults, some just stick out there more sharply like the marquee signs at a cinema.

To tell you everything, I guess I should start at the beginning and say just about everything to save both you and me from mass confusion and possible mental illness.

It's snowing- it's _always_ snowing when something sad happens, or maybe that's just me- and I'm walking down the street to my apartment and guess what should grace me but no one save the strange looking man with a cap pulled down over his face, obscuring his identity and still with the preconceived notion that EVERYONE is good, I approach him and even attempt to be nice and polite when he looks up and we meet eyes by saying Hi. This just proves to you how stupid I am. And it doesn't even strike me as insanely odd when the man nods his head and continues walking. Should it have? No. I thought not. But what _should_ how caught my fancy was the way at the end of the block when I turned my head to see down the street I had met him in, he was following me, with his head down- face obscured.

Ok, I told myself. He's just lost. Maybe he needs help, I think next but I'm not totally stupid and I don't stop my pace, just keep walking back to my apartment which is just at the end of the street trying to tell myself what they taught me in all those self-defense classes; if cornered, scream. And I hear it behind me. The sound of muffled feet on the snow. And somehow in that instant I knew- just like a mother knows when their child is in trouble because they get all those weird feelings in their stomachs. You know, the ones where your stomach rumbles and butterflies just near about have a mating frenzy in your stomach because there's just WAY too much activity in there for them NOT to be having one.

And then he grabbed me from behind, his gloved hands covering my mouth and cap falling to the ground and he drags me into this alley next to my apartment building, and what's weird is that I can't even scream out for help, I'm in so much shock, and just go limp as a doll in this man's arms where he drags me over to this box that has a blanket like he actually planned this or just happened to notice some hobo's box in the alley and pushes me next to it and falls on top of me, kissing my skin and I'm still laying there as if I died from shock or something. And I think he thought that too because he poked me in the face and out of the shock of realizing just _where_ I was and just _how_ strange this man was I screamed and scared the living shit out of both of us. Then the man took off his gloves and stuffed them both into my mouth and I coughed and sputtered, not really prepared for it, but he doesn't care, just yanks open my coat and shirt and fondles my breasts, and then I regain my senses and try to hit him, just like they teach you in self-defense, right? Of course, I'm a girl, and let's face it: an average sized girl CANNOT under most all circumstances fight off a well-built man who's older and much stronger. Still I try to fight- that's who I am after all: the Fighter.

But this man's thought of it all, either that he's just learned this from experience and pulls a rope out from somewhere on his person and binds my hands behind me. It's an incredible feat he accomplishes, even I've got to give him that, and when he rolls me back over I almost have half the mind to congratulate him, but stop myself just in time. He pulls the gloves out of my mouth and tells me that if I scream he'll kill me and I believe him because as he's saying this the longest knife I've ever seen in my life is being pulled out from his pocket and positioned just next to my jugular. It was then that I knew this guy was dead serious.

Kiss me, he says. And I say How? because he's still sitting on me and I can't exactly sit up what with the knife being jabbed into me and the ever present notion that I really DON'T want to die. So, he leans over me and captures my mouth in his and I really try to disassociate myself at this point, because what else could I really do? I wasn't going to die here, that much I knew, and I knew that if I complied he wouldn't really WANT to kill me. At least, that's what I told myself.

By this point, I'm really starting to hate all those Feel-Good-Shows like Oprah where they sit in a big circle and share their success stories on how they've managed to keep from being raped, murdered, insert-your-own-scary-thought-here, and then the whole crowd stands and applauds and the host gives out some great words of advice like pee on your attacker or something like that, but let me tell you something: not everyone can just pee on demand. I'm not a freaking dog for Christ's sake!

But then I started to beg. Against all better judgments I begged against his lips to let me go, but all that did I think was help him get more of a hard-on and he unzipped his pants and pulled up my skirt and yanked off my panties and threw them in a ball away from us. And all I could think as he did that was that I didn't want them to be dirty. I really wasn't in a great state of mind at this point.

As the fates would have it, this guy couldn't keep an erection which would have been incredibly funny, had the circumstances not been what they were. And then he told me to do it: Give me a blow job, he said, his voice eerie. I'll kill you if you don't.

And I begged Please with him and laid in the snow which was beginning to melt with our body heat and stared around me at the tiny house of some hobo, and thought Just kill me instead. But I didn't want to die. I could pick up the pieces and survive this, I thought. I could move on.

So I knelled before him, my hands still bound behind me and I looked up at him from where he stood and I said I'm still a virgin. Don't do this to me.

He smiled then. He had the audacity to smile at me and said in what he thought was a seductive manner: That'll make it all the more worth my while.

Then he pressed the knife to my neck again and I was forced to take his tiny, blue-from-the-cold penis and put it in my mouth. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever felt in my life. This strange man's member on my tongue and I just closed my eyes and tightened my lips around it and sucked. And at his quick intake I let go, knowing that something had indeed gone wrong. Wasn't it supposed to be pleasurable? I wasn't that stupid. But remember where my niceness and my vulnerability had landed me.

Easy, and move your head, like this, he said, taking his penis and shoving it in my mouth. I tightened my lips again and he placed a hand on either side of my head, the knife cold on my scalp and moved my head forwards and backwards. He moaned and silently I cried, my tears mingling with the spit from my mouth on his dick and then his penis started to grow harder and harder in my mouth and I knew that this was the turning point to all of this and the most vile taste washed over my tongue. It tasted sour and bitter, like maybe he drank too much coffee or something and then he shoved me back away from him and I tried to spit it out but he fell on top of me and held my mouth closed telling me to Just swallow it. So I did.

And then he somehow kept his erection and yanked my skirt up again. He shoved himself inside of me and this warm feeling filled me and I cried all over again. But then I felt his penis bend and pop against me painfully, because despite everything he wanted, there was only so much a member could take and he gasped and pulled out of me and threw the knife away from us. I turned my head towards the street and looked at the streetlight that was shining just ahead of me. A shadow was growing ever closer to me and he and I felt my throat tighten, despite my need to cry out for help. And the person walked by, glancing first at his discarded cap on the snowy walk and then into the alley most likely out of pure curiosity that someone might be down there and despite the abhorred look on their face, they kept on walking, never breaking their pace.

I was forced back to the reality of my situation when the man took his right hand and made a fist and shoved it, literally, up my vagina. I cried out in pain and he smiled from the pure delight he was receiving out of all of this and _miraculously,_ his erection magically popped back and he finished what he had started.

After this was over and I lay in the snow a crying bloody mess, he pulled away from me and scowled. He was apparently unhappy, though I couldn't think of a reason why he should be and he stood and went and found my underwear and brought them back to me and untied my hands and then against everything I thought he would be capable of, he apologized, like it would somehow make EVERYTHING ok. Yes, I felt like saying, Now you've made it all better. You put a band-aide on my gaping bullet hole- Good one Doc. But I didn't say anything, just curled in the fetal position on my side and then he had the nerve to actually put my panties back on for me and smooth my hair out of my face like he was my bloody mother and said he was Sorry. He was So Sorry. And I felt like spitting in his face but then I remembered the feeling of his penis on my tongue and the disgusting taste of his cum and I nearly threw up instead.

I'm so sorry, you're such a good girl, always a good girl, he said and I felt like saying How would you know? but I didn't; I was quiet, just crying and thinking about how this defiantly did NOT happen to good people and then when I opened my eyes he was standing at the opening of the alley, stooping down after a moments pause to retrieve his cap from the ground.

What? I said, sniffling. Hadn't he already done enough? He couldn't possibly be ready for another go.

What's your name? he said. And because I didn't know what else to do I told him. And he smiled and repeated it and said Sounds like an old ladies name, and then he was gone and for some unknown reason I agreed; my name really was old.

Well, then I began to panic. Here I was all alone in a crowded alleyway half-exposed and I had just been raped. I felt like someone could tattoo the title onto my forehead. RAPE VICTIM in large block styled letters just between my eyebrows and hairline. Yippee. And then, in some sort of semi-conscious state I stood and stumbled out into the street. I can only imagine what I looked like, but what I really knew was that it hurt to spread my legs to take a step and that when I looked to my right there was a car coming straight at me with it's headlights melting into one large one as it came ever closer and then I fainted right there in the middle of the snowy street.

---

When I came to I heard the voices all around me and the light presses on my skin as the nurses at the hospital slowly and carefully undressed me. And then I opened my eyes and they all started to ask me questions. Where did it happen? Did you see his face? And could I remember any specific details? And the only thing I could think to tell them was that I was a virgin… and the way his penis felt in my mouth, knowing that I wouldn't be eating again for a long time.

Then the nurses adopted this sad face that would have made me angry if it weren't for the fact that I really actually needed it to have something expected and familiar with cases like mine and then it was ok. The nurses laid me on this cold table and a doctor came and looked at me, not even saying anything to me when he stitched me closed and then patted my shoulder when he left. The nurse who was watching over me helped me sit up and the worst pain traveled up through my abdomen, but I'd always been a Fighter, so I just pushed through it and positioned myself where she told me too.

"Relax," she said.

And then I did and to my surprise I felt all my muscles grow even more painful and all of this liquid rushed out of me and spattered into something metal and for the first time I looked down and saw a bedpan full of blood at my feet. I felt bile rising in my throat.

The nurse kept whispering something about what a bastard that man was and I couldn't help but to agree and then she said my name, and I looked at her in surprise. I had told the man my name, I realized for the first time and I told the nurse that and she didn't seem the slightest bit surprised seeing as to how most victims gave up some personal bit about themselves in their emotional state and I felt Just Like Everyone Else for the slightest of moments.

"Is there anyone you would like to see?" She asked. "Anyone who can come and take care of you?"

I knew I couldn't tell my best friends. They would treat me like some type of anomaly. I would no longer be their best friend but some stranger who no longer deserved happiness and they would be sad things following me constantly. They would weigh me down, keeping me from becoming who I had previously been, before all of this. If I ever could become that girl again, that is.

So they placed me in a wheelchair and wheeled me out of that room and into the hallway and to my surprise I see him. He's still the same, though incredibly different granted the fact he's wearing a doctor's coat and when he sees me, his face just falls slack and he stops dead in his tracks.

He says my name and I look at him again, fully feeling the pains in my left eye and he furrows his eyebrows together in concern which I think is totally unlike him. But I'm not about to voice any of my opinions. He is, obviously, a man, and any man at this moment was sort of a NO CROSSING zone, though I had to admit that I felt different in his presence. We were after all closer to each other than any other we knew.

"Do you know her, Doctor?" The nurse asks and he nods his head and replies but I don't hear what it was. All I know is that they are talking and then he's taking the handles to my wheelchair and wheeling me down the hall. He presses the button on the wall and the door to our right opens by itself and he wheels me in and in the corner of the room is this shower stall and to the left of that a mirror. I know I shouldn't, but I do it anyway and stand from the wheelchair and look at myself. I mean, really look at myself. My left eye is so swollen it's a miracle I can see out of it at all. And at my neck where the man held his weapon are the little cuts a sharp knife makes when pressed against skin. And there's blood, everywhere, and all I can think of is how I don't want him to see me like this, not when I'm a great mess and look like a banshee. But I think he's most likely seen worse and I turn to him and ask the question that's been burning at the back of my mind.

"Why'd you become a doctor?"

And he looked surprised at me. Like I should be a crying mess and wailing over my horrendous encounter instead of carrying on a normal conversation with him at this very moment and he says "What?" like he thought I had three heads and snakes for hair like Medusa.

"Why'd you become a doctor?" I repeated.

But he didn't answer me. Instead he told me that I should shower and remove all the blood and things from me especially seeing as to how my clothes were now Evidence, and he didn't want me to scare the living daylights out of any of his older patients. And despite it all, I smiled too and nodded my head.

"Is there someone who can bring you a pair of clothes?" He asked.

I shook my head no.

"What about your friends?"

"I don't want them to know," I said back. It was better like this, with them never knowing, and surprisingly, I think he agreed, for the time being at least.

"I'll get you something to wear," he said, leaving the room and I took this time to strip and stare at my body in the mirror. There were bruises on my breasts where he had grabbed me too roughly and the insides of my legs were bruised from all the activity downstairs.

Then I started the water, placing it on the hottest setting, because lets face it, if I really wanted to Move On from this experience I couldn't stare at myself the way I currently was lest I be scarred for life. Steam began to pour out of the little square cubicle and I got in, pulling the curtain behind me and stood underneath to shower head, telling myself that the water wasn't hot enough when really it was just below scalding. I would most likely leave here with first degree burns from how hot the water was.

As I was running my fingers through my hair I heard the door open and then he said my name, Granger, and I smiled, because that was a welcome note. It helped in the most enlightening ways… and for that small bit of sanity I was grateful.

So I said his name back, Malfoy, and then I heard the sounds of a chair being pulled out from somewhere and him sigh as he fell into the seat.

"It's been a long day," he said softly, though I still heard him loud and clear. My hearing had become attuned to every minute sound and creak; it was rather annoying.

"Tell me about it," I said, letting my head fall back and the scalding water to rush over my face. It poured over my eyes and some went up my nose, but I sputtered only once and continued on with what I was doing.

"Are there any wash cloths?" I asked, my voice sounding almost as though I were vacationing in someone else's home and simply inquiring as to where the loo was located. And I heard Malfoy stand from his seat and after a couple of seconds, his hand thrust through the plastic curtain and in his hand was a white wash cloth. I took it from him and wet it, soaping it up before placing it to the skin of my face and scrubbing like there was no tomorrow. My eyes were scrunched shut tightly and the soap stung at the cuts on my throat as it ran down my neck but I knew there were greater pains in life than soap in a nasty cut so I pressed on till my skin was raw and tight. I rinsed my face and looked down at the cloth not at all taken aback by the light pink color it now possessed.

After my shower and a good silent cry that I couldn't help but have I turned off the faucet and poked my head outside the cubicle. And there was Malfoy, standing at attention with a white towel in his pale hands. I took it and disappeared behind the curtain again and stepped out when the towel was wrapped firmly around me. As awkward as it was to be so naked in front of a man, especially after what had just happened to me, I found it comforting that I at least knew the name and personality of _this_ man before me. He was no stranger in a back alley. He was almost an ally; almost a friend in a sense, one that would harbor a secret that no one should, all for the sake of lil' ol' me.

Malfoy left the room so I could change into some spare scrubs left behind for times of emergency and then came back in when I said it was okay.

Apparently I had to be wheeled out of the hospital, but at this moment I was much too tired to really care, and Malfoy seemed to be bent on making sure that this one rule was not broken, so I let him cart me out into a large lobby where he signed me out and then himself and took me outside to a cab. We both climbed in and sat awkwardly in the backseat as the cabby drove us back to my apartment.

As we drew ever nearer I felt the ever pressure of panic flutter through me. That alley was like a gaping mouth, waiting to draw me back inside for just One More Taste, and I was too afraid that I would be too weak again to Just Say No.

"Will you come with me?" I asked him when the cabby stopped, and Malfoy must've thought that I was scared shitless, which I was, and that was it because he only walked me to the apartment building's door. When we stopped on the stoop, my wet hair cold in the snowy atmosphere and Malfoy's warm breath flowing from his lips in a beat all of its own, I felt that pressure grow even more. What if he was waiting for me inside my apartment? He must know where I live, everything, since I had probably told him anything he wanted to hear, and none without the consent of the rational side of my brain.

"I have a favor to ask of you, Malfoy," I said my voice soft.

"Sure, what?" He said back, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. It was then that I noticed he didn't have a coat.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but it would really mean a lot to me if you would stay with me… I don't know if I could handle being alone."

And Malfoy nods his head all solemn like and runs back to the cabby and pays him and then before I know it, we're walking up the stairs towards my apartment and the pain between my legs is growing and growing till it's all I can do to now cry out again and again with every step and then we're at my door and Malfoy's being the biggest gentlemen I've ever seen by taking my keys and opening the door. He even turns down the sheets on my bed and comes back in after I changed into some more comfortable clothes to tuck me in. I felt like a little girl again and Malfoy sat on the edge of my bed staring at the wall and I thought about how strange this was. Malfoy was not like this; he was not caring and nice, and he defiantly could not have had enough heart in him to become a doctor, but then I came to learn that war changes everyone, even heartless people, and Malfoy was just a human being like the rest of us.

"If you want, you can leave," I said quietly. Malfoy turned to look at me suddenly, almost as though he had forgotten that I was there. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable and you've already done enough as it is."

But Malfoy doesn't leave. He continues to stare at me and then he leans over to me and kisses my lips and whispers against them, "Why'd you ask me?"

I kissed him back and said, "Because I knew you were the only one who would ever understand. And you were already with me."

He pulled away and said gruffly, "How can you act like that?"

"Like what?" I asked defensively.

"Like you didn't just get raped. I've dealt with rape victims; they do NOT act like this!" Malfoy was nearing a hysterical breakdown.

"It's like I said. I knew that _you_ of all people would understand me best."

Malfoy looked sideways at me and scoffed. "That was school, Hermione, this is the real world. I don't know you any better now than you know me."

I didn't say anything. What could I say really? Malfoy sat on the edge of my bed, a defeated aura about him and the saddest look on his face. And then I saw it; the smallest glint of moonlight on water and a tear gathered in his eye. Of course, it didn't fall. Men, especially Malfoy men do not cry not matter what, but I had seen it, a real tear in his eye and that just further pushed the giant billboard in front of my face proclaiming that Malfoy really was human with humanly emotions. Who ever would've known?

"I'm sorry," he said finally. He still wouldn't look at me and I was pretty sure that I didn't want him to, so instead I looked at a picture on the wall, avoiding any chances of eye contact.

"For what?"

"You know what for," He said back, his voice stiff.

And I really did know what he was sorry for, I just had to hear it from him. He had to say it, mutter the words and then the world would start spinning again and eventually the course of tonight would fade into nothing but a memory. It would be like closure, and everyone needs closure.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I'm sorry what I did to you that night. I'm sorry for almost doing what happened to you tonight and I'm sorry that I led you on in such a way."

I thought back, pondering the days of our last year of school. I remembered the ways he would say my name and kiss me, the way he would touch me and shower me with things to confirm that he loved me; the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world worthy of his gaze and maybe for a time I was, but I wasn't appealing to Forever. I was just a whim, a slight fancy, the passing glance and the rebound object, though I never knew it then.

But this was about closure and moving on so I said the only thing I could think of, "I forgive you."

"How can you forgive me?" He asked incredulously. "After everything, how can you do it?"

"Why harbor on the past? Just like tonight, I'll take these experiences and I'll move on."

"You're too strong," He muttered, shaking his head and peering at me. And I peered back. "You know that?"

"I'd rather be too strong than be too weak and crumble under every blow life throws at me," I said sarcastically, hinting at his past behavior.

"There were a lot of things out of my control, Hermione," He said his voice low.

"Whatever you say. This is just what I'll never understand; we're just too different in this area."

Malfoy stood then and left the room, walking out into the living room where I heard him plop down onto the sofa.

---

For what it's worth, I never meant to get caught up in a silly teenage romance with him; it just sort of happened… and I knew that when I woke up tomorrow morning he wouldn't be here. We'd continue on with our lives and we'd live, as much as I hated the thought of that. However, I so desperately wanted him to; I wanted to wake the next morning and have him lying next to me like he had once done so many years ago. I wanted to be what we once were… I wanted him back, the true him.

So the next morning when I woke up and stepped from my room, I was completely blown over to see him lying on my couch, his clothes neatly folded on the floor next to him and a completely At Home look on his face as he snored and scratched his chest in his sleep.

And I also noticed how much I wanted him to make love to me. I wanted to feel a man inside of me, and every time I thought of this, it struck me as strange. I had always heard of women who had been raped and never slept with a man again for the rest of their lives; everyone's different I guess. They cared what happened to them.

But at this moment, I didn't care. I already hated my body enough to not care what happened to it at this moment or any near future moment, so I did one of the only things I could think of that would help me feel comforted for the slightest of moments. And to help me with this new fangled plan, he continued to come home with me and tuck me into bed. Four months after my rape we followed our routine and he left to go and sleep on the couch. One hour after he had left me and went out to the sofa I stood from my bed and followed him. He was wide awake, lying on his back and when I opened the door to my bedroom his eyes were on me instantly.

"I knew you'd be coming to me," He whispered and I couldn't tell if he meant it nicely or not, so I paused in my steps and stared at him uncertain. And he opened his arms from where he lay on the couch and beckoned me closer.

I walked over to him and lay down on top of him, liking the way it felt to have his body close to mine. It was awkward yes, but I learned to adjust to this feeling and decided that this was what I wanted more than anything. He pulled me close to him, hugging my body next to his and stroking my hair and rubbing his hands up and down my back, his fingers catching on the hem of my shirt each time he drew his fingers up my spine, and I knew then and there that this was what was supposed to happen and it was defiantly going to be with him. Our shared past just made it make sense; there was no other for us.

For this piece of sanity, I could make the violent shivers that ran down my spine disappear. I could associate this only with Malfoy and not that stranger, right?

He kissed me softly and yet it had a certain intensity behind it that made me want to speed things up myself, just so I could satisfy this hunger in me. I was starving for him and he was tempting me with little nips and bites on my lips.

Finally, I sat up and removed my shirt, falling back to him, and kissing all the more passionately which he returned back with the same ferocity and removed his own shirt. The feel of our skins felt different than I thought it would. In all the romance novels I had read, it always said something about a fire erupting between them at the touch of their skin, but all I really felt was his cold skin and the cold air around us and the violent shivers that traveled up my body as his cold hands rubbed over my skin.

"It's cold," I stated and Draco reached down to the arm of the sofa and took the blanket he always so neatly folded on the arm and placed it over us.

We tried to roll over so that he would be on top, but the truth is, it isn't all that easy to roll on a small couch and we ended up crashing to the floor with a loud thump I'm sure woke the tenants downstairs. But Draco didn't miss a beat. He continued kissing my neck and removing my clothes, and soon I forgot about the rest of the world too and stripped him bare till we were both stark naked on my living room floor.

Malfoy kissed me lightly as he positioned himself between my legs, one slightly raised to keep my hips up. And then he pulled back. He seemed to be reconsidering, but decided against it and kissed me again gently massaging me to help me loosen to the feeling of something being inside of me. First he placed his fingers inside of me, and I got used to the rhythm he was giving me. In and out- in and out- I could do this. Just like riding a bicycle, right? Ha. Ha. Ha.

I thought I was prepared for the feeling of him being inside of me, but once it actually happened, I fully understood that I totally wasn't. He stopped as soon as he first penetrated, but the pained expression on my face never went away, even after I had become accustomed to his member.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly. I never knew men actually cared; wasn't it more of like a Get On, Get Off, Get Out type of deal? But apparently he cared, and that gave me the strength to continue. I nodded my head vigorously and when he began to move slowly in and out of me, I felt that same warm feeling I'd felt the last time, back in the alley start from where we were connected. But unlike last time, it traveled up my body and fully engulfed me. My cheeks burned and my fingers burned and I wanted nothing more than to be burned alive with this new feeling inside of me.

"Harder," I whispered, and he complied, repositioning his body and laying over me. He moved almost stoically above me, but he would run his hands up and down my torso and gently massage my breasts and kiss my neck and pull back every now and then to kiss my lips, and then he would return to the crook of my neck between my collar and shoulder and breathe his hot fiery breath onto my skin and I burned and burned and finally when neither of us could take it anymore, I pulled him flesh against me and rocked my hips against him and against all odds a moan escaped his previously silent lips and I moaned back, though not on purpose and he grabbed me, hugging me tightly, and shoved himself up into me as far as he could and groaned, gasping for breath as his body shook for exertion and my own shook with fear. I was scared of this, and even now that it was over, I couldn't shake the feeling of that night and what that stranger had done to me.

Malfoy pulled away, staying inside of me, and looked down on me. We were both breathing hard and as we looked at each other, I was glad I had shared this moment with him. He kissed my lips roughly, sweat from his forehead dripping down onto me and then he just collapsed on top of me sighing loudly and I felt his smile against my neck and I smiled too.

"I- I think I love you," I said absently stroking his back.

His body grew tense and I stopped touching him, letting my hands drop to the floor. Malfoy raised himself with his hands. He stared down at me with a quizzical look and then once he saw that I was dead serious, he smiled somewhat and then he kissed me again, but this time, there was something else behind it, something I couldn't exactly place, but it was nice and it was warm, and filled me with something other than fear.

Draco stroked my face and my hair and touched my skin and made love to me again and again and every time I fell just the slightest bits more in love with him and then finally when we were too exhausted to continue and the sun had nearly risen to the middle of the sky, we stood from the living room floor where we had started and stumbled into the shower, where we turned the water on hot and held each other and kissed and smiled awkwardly at the naked states of our bodies, and kissed some more.

Later once we had fallen, dead tired, into my bed, wrapped up in each other, I felt the courage that had once sparked a flame in my heart. Sure, it had been snubbed cold one lone winter's night, but I had found the strength against all odds to move on. And when my conscious began to melt into a dreamless sleep-like mode I heard it: the phrase that completed me as a new person.

"I love you too."

**A/N Love it, Hate it, Don't really personally care about it? R&R. I really just thought that it would make a good story… and I like how it turned out. Tell me what you think!**


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